


Reasons Wicked and Divine

by infinite_hyperion



Category: Lupin III
Genre: I'm a sucker for cops and robbers romance, M/M, Yata appears for like five seconds at the end but I'm tagging him anyway
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-01
Updated: 2019-12-01
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:34:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,428
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21638167
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/infinite_hyperion/pseuds/infinite_hyperion
Summary: Who the hell's trying to sneak into Zenigata's room through his fifth floor balcony at this time of night, and why?
Relationships: Arsène Lupin III/Zenigata Kouichi
Comments: 13
Kudos: 127





	Reasons Wicked and Divine

**Author's Note:**

> I ran out of Lupin/Zenigata fic to read and thus I was forced to write my own. Enjoy!

Zenigata woke not because he heard the balcony door open, but because he felt a rush of cold air enter the room. 

_Who could even get up here, I’m on the fifth floor-_ He snatched his gun from the bedside table as a name crashed through his sleep-hazed mind. 

“Either I’m dreamin’ or you’re making it real easy for me to arrest you, Lupin,” he growled. 

“Aw Pops, your vigilance never ceases to amaze me.” 

Lupin stood in front of the balcony door, backlit by the bright neon lights of the Baba Yaga Casino. He was dressed all in black, but hadn’t bothered to shield his face from the bitter wind. His cheeks and nose were red from the cold, and Zenigata had to fight back the strangest urge to cup the thief’s face in his hands. 

“What do you want?” 

“Nice place they set you up in!” Lupin let out a low whistle, ignoring the question. “Not your usual digs, that’s for sure. I should send calling cards to places like this more often if they’re gonna treat you this well! Mind if I close the door? It’s a bit brisk out there, with the Russian winter and all.” 

Zenigata ran a hand over his face. “You’re the one who opened it in the first place, but go ahead.” 

The doors closed with a click. Zenigata took a moment to give one last longing glance to the most comfortable bed he’d had in years (years!) and kept his gun trained on Lupin. “Do you mind telling me what you’re doing in MY room at this ungodly hour before I cuff you and take you next door to Siberia?”

“That’s so harsh! I just wanted to see if you were enjoying yourself…and if you’d like a bit of company.” 

Zenigata blinked, set down his gun, and grabbed a pen light instead. He held Lupin’s chin in one hand and shone the light in the thief’s eyes.

“Cut it out!” Lupin wriggled and squirmed to no avail. 

“Did you hit your head on the way up here? Are you drunk, hypnotized, possessed by some strange malevolent force—”

“No, no, no, and _no—Oh._ Your hand is so warm.” 

Zenigata dropped the penlight when Lupin grabbed his other hand. Under normal circumstances, he could have easily overpowered Lupin, pulled away and began their usual game —

Lupin placed Zenigata’s hands on opposite sides of his face. 

“Much better,” he said with a contented sigh. 

Zenigata locked eyes with Lupin and froze. He could feel a blush creeping up his neck and into his ears. His heart thrummed in his chest. He opened his mouth and closed it again. It felt like his brain had cut rational thought into confetti and tossed it into a tornado. 

Of course he’d indulged in…intimate fantasies about his greatest rival. But they were just that. Fantasies. He knew Lupin didn’t feel the same way, couldn’t feel the same way about him. 

_What kind of trap is this then? What does he stand to gain from this distraction?_ Rational thought came back in fits and starts. 

“Your calling card said you’re not supposed to strike until tomorrow, so are you here to taunt me? Because that’s low, even for you.” Zenigata cursed his inability to hide his emotions as he felt hot tears prick the corners of his eyes. “It’s not enough that you constantly beat me, you have to play with my feelings too?” 

“Of course not!” Lupin pulled away and looked…hurt? Disappointed? “I know I don’t take a lot of things seriously, but I’m not heartless. My feelings for you are real, Koichi, and I hope they’re reciprocated.” 

“Why would you…I don’t understand…” Zenigata stopped. His knees might give out if he thought too much about the fact Lupin had just called him by his first name. 

Lupin threw his hands up in frustration.“Why _wouldn’t_ I find you attractive? You’re the only one I’ve let chase me around the world for years. You think I’d let just any old inspector ascend to the position of Lupin the Third’s greatest rival?” Lupin grabbed the front of Zenigata’s shirt and pulled him down to eye level. “You think I fall for just anyone who tries to catch me?” 

Zenigata returned the favor by grabbing a handful of Lupin’s turtleneck and pulling the thief even closer. He struggled to find something, anything in the maelstrom of his thoughts. 

But where his thoughts failed, instinct took over. 

He kissed Lupin, trying to channel every feeling Lupin had left him with over the years; every fantasy and frustration and fluttering feeling in his chest. Everything he’d given up to pursue the thief; his home, his family, the chance to ever have a “normal” life or career. Every time he’d thought of Lupin’s absence with longing rather than relief, every time Lupin’s capture or supposed death left him empty instead of jubilant. 

“Whoa,” Lupin shoved Zenigata away after a few moments. “You tryin’ to suffocate me? Not that I’d mind going out like that, but I was thinking we could have a bit more fun before I leave this mortal coil for good.” He felt absolutely giddy, and let out something between a shout and a squeal when Zenigata threw him to the bed and pinned his wrists. 

“I’ve got you now, Arsene,” Zenigata said with a low growl, though Lupin could hear him grinning. 

“Yeah, you do. And I’ll do anything you want as long as you keep calling me Arsene.”  
—  
“Koichi.” 

Zenigata popped one eye open to look over at Lupin. “Hmm?” 

Lupin traced a couple of scars on Zenigata’s broad chest. “I have to go…once I map all of these out, of course.” He rolled over on top of the inspector and went over every mark with deft hands. 

Zenigata, for his part, was much too tired from their previous activities to protest, even if he’d wanted to. He liked the scrutiny of Lupin’s hazel eyes, the tilt of the thief’s mouth when he concentrated. 

“Find anything interesting?” he asked as he reached for the pack of cigarettes he kept on the bedside table and a lighter. 

“You get shot A LOT,” Lupin said. 

“You’re one to talk,” Zenigata replied. He poked a scar on Lupin’s shoulder as he pulled a cigarette from the pack with his teeth. 

Lupin helped himself to a cigarette, lit it, then used his cigarette to light Zenigata’s. It seemed to Zenigata he’d done all of that with a barely perceptible flick of his wrist. He couldn’t tell when Lupin had grabbed the cigarette or the lighter. 

“Yeah well, it’s one thing if _I_ get shot because of me. Quite another if _you_ get shot because of me.” Lupin tried to sound flippant, but Zenigata could hear the undercurrent of concern in his voice.

“It’s my job, Arsene. I’d rather it be me than you.” 

“Ohhhh, I’m so glad I have a big, strong inspector looking out for me.” Lupin flopped to the side and threw an arm up as if he were about to drop onto a fainting couch. “Whatever would I do without you?” 

“Don’t you have to go soon?” Zenigata asked mildly.

Lupin sighed. “I guess.” He rolled out of bed and took all the blankets with him. 

“Hey, I was using those!” 

“Noooot anymore!” Lupin draped the sheet and king sized comforter over himself as if he were a Roman emperor and slapped on Zenigata’s fedora for good measure. “How do I look?” 

“You’re a real beauty, the absolute belle of the ball, now please give me the damn blankets back.”

“No one would throw a blanket over a Monet or a Van Gogh soooo there’s no way I’m allowing you to cover up that work of art again,” Lupin said, gesturing to all of Zenigata with a raised brow. 

Zenigata bit through his cigarette and swore. Lupin walked around the room and gathered his clothes, whistling innocently the whole time. 

—

Zenigata made his way down to the lobby for breakfast, grabbed a plate piled with food and two cups of coffee. 

“Did you sleep okay, sir?” Yata asked as he sat down at the table. 

“Not really,” Zenigata replied as he tore into a strip of bacon. 

“Working overtime on the Lupin case, I’m sure.” 

Zenigata thought back to some of the ways he’d “worked on” Lupin just hours before. 

“…Something like that,” Zenigata said as he looked down at his plate and prayed Yata couldn’t see how red his face was. 

—


End file.
